Standing out in the balcony staring at the moon befogged by the clouds, he lit up a cigarette. His thoughts suddenly became alive as the first puff melted away with the steering wind.
It was that time of the day when he would be at his most thoughtful self; all the procrastinated plans would come up one by one like an advancing queue at a take-out restaurant. The decisions were quick and spontaneous.
He hadn't called back home in while, mom would be really worried. He knew he definitely liked the girl, but he hadn't talked to her for a while now, she hadn't called back too. He knew his new initiative is going to take him a long way; he would definitely make that presentation tomorrow. He is going to start writing his new book too, the ideas are plenty, it's definitely going to be the next bestseller. And the guitar which was bought a month back and disposed off in the corner, he will definitely spend the next few months mastering it, the girls love the rockstar kind. The paunch has also become visible, he would definitely start working out; he was never the unfit kind.
As he blew out the puffs of smoke, the story became more and more elucidating. With all the chores lined up, he put off the cigarette butt. This is definitely going to be his last cigarette, he has been intending to quit for some time. He was somewhat content and stared at the silver crescent in the sky with a gratifying demeanor. The moonlight was abridged by the passing clouds as he stood there staring.
It was a while when he realized he has been standing out there gazing at nothingness. He shook his head as if trying to shake himself into consciousness and lit up another cigarette.
The still darkness of night shattered by the drops of rain smashing across the tin roof, the occasional howl of the wind demons, the stillness of the subdued light originating from the corner and a familiar lullaby playing in your head; makes you miss something, something not tangible, something you cannot name even if you want to, something you wouldn't want to be thinking about. It's there, always there on the back of your mind even in those busy work schedules where you have to stretch that extra hour to get the work done,even in those exhilarating adventures where your mind is preoccupied with the thrill, even in those happy moments where you are a child all over again. It takes a back seat for a while but reappears with every chance it gets, filling you with the overwhelming emotion, your eyes all wide looking for that all elusive something. It could be love for the romantic, success for the ambitious, peace for the sinful, a friend for the lonesome, home for the lost or could be a motley; I hope it gets you going first thing in the morning when the rain stops; or that dreaded sound on the tin roof is going to haunt you forever.
Things I used to hear from my parents all the time but actually learned in last 6 months:
--> If you have ten different tasks on your plate pick out the most difficult task first and finish it off. Having the toughest task done will give you the boost to finish off the list. As the wise men say "Well begun is half done".
-->If you really want to do something and find no one to do it with, then just stop waiting for others to join in. Take the darned first step and soon you will find that you won't need to call others...people will join in.
-->You will realize the value in being able to walk, talk, eat, drink, play normally when you are not well and can't do one of these things.
-->Many discoveries and inventions were a not planned...they were part of an accident. The point is: Keep Experimenting.
-->Don't get mad at yourself when you mess up something attempting it for the first time. Being good at something takes time and effort. Sachin was also clumsy when he held the bat for the first time.
-->It take hard work to become a good player from a bad player. It takes a whole lot more to improve from good to very good. More effort won't help you become the best, you would need passion along with the effort.
-->Be prepared to work hard if you truly want to enjoy your idle time. Being idle all the time sucks.
I don't know what I am going to write about in the next line. The plan is to not to plan...sounds a bit weird though but I’ll go on. I saw another stupid movie today. The reason they make only stupid movies these days is incomprehendable to me. I am not a movie buff but when I feel like watching one, I have to go watch one. I guess I always feel this way, when I get the impulse to do something, I have to somehow discover a way to do it or find it or eat it or see it or play it or whatever...you got the point. After all there is nothing wrong with it and most of the times the efforts and tantrums to make the implausible act to happen becomes more fun than the act itself.
One such act I remember was on a cold December night when I felt like playing table tennis. I like the game and when I feel like playing I really want to play. So, this cold day or rather night in December I called a couple of my friends and planned a TT game in the next half an hour. All set we assembled in the next thirty minutes in the gym; yes the TT table is in the gym. So there we were 4 guys, midnight and a TT table. We started the game only to realize the ball was making a funny sound. On close examination it was found that the ball was broken and it was the only one we had. Man! This thing gets on my nerves...a perfectly cold night, four friends, a deserted gym, all set to play and a BROKEN ball. There would not have been any shops open at that time and I somehow could not make peace with the fact the there wasn't to be a game tonight. In acts of desperation I called up my friends and other people in my workplace only to ask a question as polite as this: "Sorry to bug you at this unearthly hour. Do you by any chance happen to play table tennis or might by some holy mistake happen to have a TT ball with you."
Well as expected we could not get what we wanted. I guess even if anybody had it, he would have sworn at me for calling this time for a TT ball. But whatever, the important point now was that we wanted to play and we could not because of that stupid broken ball, I don't even know how it broke. Plan A had failed and so had plan B. Now out of utter desperation and growing restlessness came out plan C. There was a guest house near our place and it hosted a nice little TT room with all the accessories. We realized we would surely get what we wanted there. But the room was opened only to the people staying in the guest house and we would not even be allowed entry. Plan C said we would have to act all casual and suave to make the guard believe we stayed there. After making the master plan, I and one other folk make our move. We move towards the guest house all chit chatting and whistling as if returning from a good nice walk. We entered the place acting like we owned it. "Aur duty sahi chal rahi hai", I said to the security guard and he replied with a reluctant nod half in sleep trying to recognize who we were. He could not risk questioning our identity as the "sahibs" staying in the guest house won't like being questioned every time they enter or leave. He stood upright and we walked straight ahead as if we were walking in our backyard. We moved straight to the TT room acting all casual and smooth. We made an entry for a phony name and room in the register and went in. The guard outside the room could not care less. After acting to play for 5 mins I pocketed in the ball and we quietly moved out. Smooth as we were, there was no reason for anyone to suspect anything. The act of stealing had a moral implication but I guess stealing a 15 bucks TT ball should count as a negligible sin. And we being so pure and angelic and all, a little sin could do. And after all it was fun; yes it was sort of enjoyable. We come out as casually as we walked in and looking back the exercise did not look all that demanding. When we were just about to exit the main gate I saw my ally's back, who was moving just in front of me. It seemed kind of straight as though he had a wooden board inside his T shirt. Wow!!!! It was then I realized that my ally was one step ahead. I saw an outline of a TT racket and in my urgency to pocket the TT ball he had swiped the racket. Compared to a 15 bucks TT ball, stealing a 500 bucks racket was a big, even by our standards. We were about to exit and the guard seemed to be totally awake and staring at us. I tried to look away and kept moving. It seemed like he knew something was fishy. I don’t know whether he suspected something or you get this eerie feeling when you have done something you shouldn't have. But whatever, there was no turning back now and as soon as we reached the end of the street and turned around the corner, we ran like madmen to our place. We were laughing all the way back and my associate was holding his newly claimed weapon high in his hand, like a Tipu Sultan's sword. I don't even remember a bit about the game, whether we played or kept reveling in the joy of our impromptu adventure. I guess whatever we did that we later decided to not to take the guest house street for the next week or so. I might not remember the game that night, it would have been the most satisfying games, but I will not forget the not so dandy but a short little adventure that made the game possible, defying all odds. Thinking about it makes me realize another obvious fact of life "Almost all the time the journey is more savoring than the destination." P.S: I guess I was talking about the movie and got carried away. Whatever, don’t watch that stupid movie “I hate love stories”.
"I won't go to sleep until you tell me a story pa", exclaimed young Zafran.
"You are even more adamant than your mother. Come here", replied Kartik. He was a man in his late thirties with a face that suggested he had seen the thick and thin of life. He had tried hard to make young Zafran go to sleep but had eventually realized, after a series of such nights, that even someone as tough as him would have to bow in to this 8 year old's will. His son was his priciest possession and even though he had been feeling uneasy throughout the day he held young Zafran in his lap and started with the story.
Kartik spoke, “Once upon a time, there were two friends, Zain and Razzak. They were the best of friends. Their friendship was so deep, that it defied any limits, they could go any lengths for each other...If one was hungry other would give up his food, if one was weary other would complete his work, if one was in a fight other would gladly confront a punch..."
He went on narrating, racking his brain for the tiniest bit of details which were mere whims of his imagination. The power of articulation came naturally to him and young Zafran was already lost in his second world imagining Zain and Razzak marching hand in hand, completing their adventures.
"..One day when they were out on one of their adventures in the jungle, they confronted a gang of robbers.", continued Kartik,"They knew that if they were caught, they won't go back alive. So they hid behind the bushes and hoped that the robbers won't find them. Suddenly the robbers started approaching the place where Zain stayed hidden. With every passing minute Zain could feel the fear growing. Seeing that the robbers were about to catch hold of Zain, Razzak jumped out of his hiding and ran away into the jungle, daring them to catch him. He knew he had no chance but the thought that his friend will be safe became his strength. By the time Zain could understand what his friend had done for him, Razzak had vanished in the bushes and the Robbers had gone behind him. Zain felt deep within him that his friend would return and so he waited and prayed. After a couple of hours Razzak was back. He had defied all odds and had lost the robbers in the jungle. Seeing his dear friend again Zain's face lit up and as they hugged each other, tears rolled down his cheeks...”. Kartik stopped as he realized Zafran was already in sound sleep. He stared at his son's angelic face, sleeping with contentment. He laid Zafran in his bed and came up on the roof.
It was full moon and the silver strands of moonlight lit brightly on his rugged face. As he had gone on narrating the story to his son his stiff face had softened. The uneasiness which he had been feeling throughout the day now grew with every passing second. In his thoughts, he went 25 years back, same day, 1984 riots when his friend Razzak had faced the blow of the angry mob and let him escape unscathed. "Razzak", literally meaning the Protector, had given his life to live up to his name. He had been Kartik's protector. "It does not always end the way we have in the stories”, he thought.
He dearly wished he could hear Razzak’s voice now, calling him "the gracious", Zain, the name which only Razzak used to call him with, the name which now only existed in young Zafran's fantasy world. "At least they are together there..!!", he thought with a feeling of amelioration.
As he stood on the roof motionless, gazing away in the dark, a tear trickled down his weary face.
The solution to the most intricate problems is trivial ...and if it isnt ..either the problem is not difficult enough or you are thinking too much.. :)
